


Sugars and Bitters

by IreFizzy



Category: Saint Seiya, 聖闘士星矢: 冥王神話 | Saint Seiya: The Lost Canvas
Genre: Date in the Cafe, First Time Dating, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Other Ships Mention, Winter Season, angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28341381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IreFizzy/pseuds/IreFizzy
Summary: To bag a date with a model is dream he could handle, but in reality - too surreal. He is here, sitting down, pondering how to handle a presence millions lust over. A wobble of hot chocolate, drawing stars on eye from inner admiration, both witness others' performance and their end of love. Winter strands knows how to hit, a kiss knows how to soothe for next time.Secret Santa gift for Yamielsun.
Relationships: Aquarius Camus/Cygnus Hyōga
Comments: 2





	Sugars and Bitters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yamielsun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yamielsun/gifts).



A phone flashed a notification. A short message the phone did not need to be unlocked. It read:

_ I will be there in ten mins. Are you in the café? _

Baked cinnamon rolls dipped in vanilla icing smelt ever so pleasant, relaxes Hyoga’s nerves before he picks up his little phone with a glossy blue cover. Held it flat against his left hand, many letters on the keyboard and jumped for each second with utmost care to avoid autocorrects. Or face palming typos, not good for a first date.  
  
_ Yeah, I’m already in and found a table for us. Absolutely freezing outside, you know.  
  
_ Send.

Hyoga re-read it. Re-read thrice. Realising a complaint had slipped in, a thirty minutes walk of a shattering ice formed on the road, saw a tiny bundled up kid slipped on mush known as black ice here. Approaching near the café, despite being comfortable in his own white winter coat and navy jumper, a sneaky breeze tickled him under his waist, making him shiver. A breath confessed and a prayer of Camus’ face would not so sharp, like the tip of an icicle. 

With deliberate luck, he chose to sit on the first floor where the walls are windows. He sees all what is below him. Few blocks down away from the cafe, Manigoldo with his spikes smothered by a woolly hat, very likely made by his husband, sees a knitted white rose as a top bump. Carrying a bag of containers of warm lunches, he delivered those to his working husband in his self-made paradise which always smelled nice. The most beautiful one, he embraced from behind, enjoying Albafica’s soft hair tickling his face.

He unclasped his school bag to attract a book in his hands, the best of this year despite being in chapter nine. This wasn’t a school book but it was part of an assessment to assess a book of his choosing. 

_ A Fight Under Moon Hills: Winter. _ Part of the series of revolution and changes in a town called Moon Hills. It got the name as around the town is two heights looks like two crescents, close to form a full moon if you are a bird or a plane. A series to what happened in the season of different years, this one was Winter 2029 and a ban of drugs and idols almost marked the end of the town itself.

**Chapter 10  
  
  
**

* * *

_ “Achoo!” _ _  
_ _  
_ Not an ambulance boom of emergency on a salted street suppresses that inhumane thing. Eyes noted and left with their duties to tend to. Every lamppost had a trumpet shooting from the middle, underneath was a neon message of ‘Merry Christmas’ and ‘Happy New Year’.   
  
A celebration that was no longer a facade or a law, after the ninety percent of the people brainwashed by the Brat Fifth Daughter of the Vice-President. Much better than what the people made to call her before. Christmas had to be in the law in order to return the fun, or anything to make those humans, humans again. Twelve years ago, a place without laughter was here. Only white worn to symbol the new beginnings. Yet rebirth can be explained as a baby’s first sight is a room of people, blondes, brunettes, blue and white uniforms, a doctor’s black frames and to be wrapped in white blanket with pink and blue stripes. Everyone feels like another world, like in the streets that is not recognised in spring, summer and autumn.    
  
Powdered snow covered a bit of Gull’s nose before he sneezed.   
  
“That is why you don’t leave your scarf out for that bitch to bite, dimwit.”   
  
Gull’s ears threw that comment to the sky when it perked a familiar Christmas tone nearby. He placed his soiled tissue in a trash. Glanced back to his superior, it was clear to him that Detective Marson had been a victim of that brainwashing, that sinking frown if it liked, can reach his chin. Stern appearance that is not easily broken was the only face before the Electra Coup.    
  
However that got broken thanks to an idea and he put his special glasses on.   
  
“Route 66 is on, maggot state.”   
  
To remain still, he always had to do with Marson. But Marson strolled to gain a tinkle around his fingers, from a poor lamppost, and wrapped it around Gull’s neck like a scarf.   
  
“Perhaps I don’t need a tree, you got a great height after al-”   
  
“Say sorry to Daphne, then flirt.”    
  
Marson moved to the side of Gull and stroked his chilly cheeks, “Alright, even I will say it in front of her. But seriously, if you are blushing, all of it comes to your nose. Don’t want you sick anytime.”   
  
Gull grasped his hand and turned him to move to the right, and leaned to peck him on his    
cheek, just below his glasses.   
  
“Ooh...!”   
  
“By the way, I was meaning to do that. Got a good vision?”   
  
“Mmph. Got something better to see than a scoundrel that sneak in the office to steal papers. On the laptop in that cafe would be an ideal fate for him to live in.” Marson adjusts his camera hidden in the frames to zoom to capture the screen of emails to one of the suspects, Atlas.    
  
“Our dear friend Atlas had been very naughty this year. I deliver him to his grave.” Those glasses were removed, they stood for ten-fifteen minutes, the maximum time to be innocent in this moderate busy town.    
  
Sat down on a bench near the town square where in the middle was a huge Christmas tree and Gull ran to put his tinkle on that tree. Gull had brought a new scarf along the way and he could not resist to smuggle in the new warmth.   
  
When Gull was back, a huge sip of latte marked his return. Silence was their language, there was a time and place to enjoy their company without anything exchanged. Who would know this former talkative doctor would be so silent? Gull was only glad to be a migrant to this town five years ago than earlier on. His hands were terrible to the weather, a true imitation to the environment, quickly dived in Marson’s empty company and put his arm around him.    
  
“Tell me something….did your good vision come back?”    
  
A bobble was missing, and that was on Detective Gull’s face. __

* * *

  
  
A pair of hands brushed dust from Hyoga’s shoulders, those tiny chimneys lightly massaged by leather gloves awaken Hyoga. All he can see is a pile of paragraphs in one page. All of the pavements, bench, huge tree disappeared where Hyoga glanced up, in surprise of his stunning date looking down at him. Different from the December edition of Rewind, no, he changed his looks depending on which project. According to his mate Eri who worked as an intern in Camus’ agency, Camus had red hair and red eyes, of course that had to be dealt with. He wore his blue contacts in, but his natural red hair out. His freckles shine under the light, he cannot contain his soft gasp, when he did get here?

“Sorry to interrupt you from that book, are you not a little young to read that?” 

Hyoga managed to move out of his statue-like state yet not thawed enough to make a reaction. Camus continued in his own speaking, he placed an arm around Hyoga before leaning down to the book itself. He could see what Hyoga had previously seen. 

“No matter, clearly it is not my business what you do, unless you do drugs because I don’t date druggies.” 

A sudden shake of the head answered.

“Good. Good book I read while travelling around Sapporo. I wouldn’t say anymore about it until you finish that book. I wonder how much your mood depends on your expectations.“ Camus took his white winter coat to drape over his chair. Gently removing his gloves in those huge pockets, he tied a plain cashmere scarf to the chair, he had finally taken his seat. Beyond the gingerbread biscuits with six icing pens cluttered in a bowl, and the heavy smelling coffee next to it, Hyoga broke a sweat to how Camus revealed his attire with such grace, practice only became natural. Single black knitted turtleneck, seemingly fitted well around his chest, eyes drifted away to the menu. Maybe the Fates learned how to love, that the price of a cinnamon roll had reduced quite a bit, he had excused himself to get them downstairs. 

On one hand was a desired bun, on another, whipped cream hot chocolate. Not a usual order for him. Seiya and Shun had everyone’s sweetest teeth, plus any sugared products were not recommended to his diet. No one would know this and if they did, he had two reasons; the festivity served to be a perfect reason to do anything indulgent and repay everything with prayers on that special day, and his heart danced to Flight of the Bumblebee. It was his first time dating anyone older, let alone a model...he shook his head to empty what was inside. Doubts never helped him much.

He hiked the high stairs where he did a quick sniff where no bad odor detected, he breathed a little that Camus had glanced behind. 

The redhead eyed Manigoldo outside of the florist tapping at his cheek. The door was half closed, gradually reaching the frames but not quite, a florist with reindeer hairband got his rose from his vase to hit Manigoldo lightly on his cheek. The Italian pretended to be hurt by this “cruelty” and rubbed his poor, poor cheek. Albafica rolled his eyes knowing this too well decided to fall into his “trick” and peck him softly. Before Manigoldo can perk up, his beautiful husband whispers something to drop his smirk to the sewers, instead, he spreads this glow to another cheek by his own beam smile. After saying his “see you tonight, my honey” or something similar, a single fairy lightens up in the streets of walking pointy pine needles. 

“Ah, you took your time.”    
  
A small clack of the plate pittar pillar, a gentle voice soothes this wooden table. He thought of Manigoldo losing his wife last year, Camus witnessed one of the eye boggling moments during Veronica's funeral, a rawest violation of oneself performed by the widower himself. Upon seeing her eternal sleeping face, his hands grasped her head to give a barely felt forehead peck, rain patterned and ran down her face like a collapsing asteroid, far, so far away, those tears weakened his stubborn will. He screamed, no lion or tiger could say anything. No booming of the Church’s bells can hush him down, lullaby of the dead claimed her. Why did she become a demon? For a demon, the loved one must insure a second death because if the demon still lived, they would live in the realm, south of this world to rot and be locked away. He screamed louder to realise there was blood on her face, from his doing. Camus looked away from the sight, it was too loud and too much to bear. He spotted Hyoga who perhaps was in a twin state. As a model he knew how to hide his emotions right well, not so much for the little one. As if they had a quiet agreement, they stared at each other for a long time, Hyoga ceased his shock and accepted this puzzling, tingling company until Manigoldo stopped his screams. 

“Yes, I did.” Hyoga bowed his head and sipped his hot chocolate, ”One of the coffee machines was broken so I got hot cocoa instead. Although…”

Wiped the whipped cream at the side of his lips, he paused briefly, “I didn’t know gingerbread was something you liked, or those sugary pens.” 

“What can I say? Do an occasional sin and have most days to be good, that’s human, right? December is a cheat month hence January is dedicated to pilates. An almost tradition that I intended to remain faithful to. A disappointment that it is isn’t already iced despite my requests. I mean, the excuse of ‘we got a huge supply of sugary pens that needed to be gone soon before the expiry date’ is not it, it shows bad management and organisation, pray that the food is the true grace.”

Pens were: blue, green, purple, yellow, red and black. Would shapes imprinted to rise the colour of the treat? Purple thick stars, blue thin stripes, red santa hat and yellow and black bobbles, all wet and in icing from those small pens.

“In that case, to make disappointment into something good, we have to put our hand on it. Normally with gingerbread, what I do is I make gingerbread people, modelled after people I’m close to like Crystal, I think you met him before, ah Isaak of course.”

Camus nearly smiled, and his eyebrows raised a little to Isaak’s name, similarity or something, that was dismissed with Camus speaking. When he says something, Hyoga feels relaxed and calm for some reason, like what the smell of cinnamon rolls does to him. “If you don’t mind, I would like to steal that.”

“By all means, go ahead.” As casual as he attempted to be, he almost knocked his cup off and sheepishly put it back in its place. Camus got his phone and swiped horizontally to find something in the photos app. He found the perfect one, too perfect for Camus to glance away in irritation for a brief second. He gestured to Hyoga to hold his phone and when Hyoga saw the picture, he didn't know whether he felt pity for Camus for knowing him or shocked by what he had done.

“So you were close to the dude who kidnapped-”

A sharp no stopped him talking. “This is Shura, honourable man. The man who you are referring to is Shura’s distant Portuguese cousin, I don’t know the name too well, Caça  or Kasa whatever, who dressed like Shura to kidnap El Cid and I think you watched the rest on TV.”

_ Same with El Cid and his husband, Sisyphus, later being assassins, damn. _

“Anyway, Hyoga, it’s Milo on the left I’m drawing.” Camus squirted a bit of the yellow pen to release a bit that landed on the head. He drew Milo’s blonde locks on as well as his bright blue eyes with Hyoga holding the picture in front of him as reference. 

“That’s better.” 

“Which one?” 

“The gingerbread for sure.” Camus let out a hmph and a chortle to the truth, that gingerbread was more bearable to look at than Milo trashing his apartment everytime he and his ex-boyfriend bickered and fought. 

“That's a good answer, Hyoga. Though this one needs clothes, I can't have it naked in any seasons.” 

This made his young date nervous laugh, the last thing he wanted was to move his hand holding a phone too much, he did snicker to his assumptions about what Milo and Camus’ relationship may be like. 

“Done. What do you think?”

Gingerbread Milo could be a cartoon villain in a kid’s movie, bushy eyebrows and V-smile imply playfulness of having people under the strings - he looks cute thanks to Camus’ handmanship. Now it is wrapped in velvet tissues, to bother Milo by Camus eating his sugary version in front of the real one, the latter would mock-faint since he got that giddy energy, open but well intended.

“Tasty that I heard a rumble from somewhere, Milo could have some little stars under his eyes, his defining features would be his eyes, right?”

Camus pondered and got his pen ready - under each eye were four mini stars with some lines representing its shine. Eight in total. 

“Yeah like that, a banger.” Hyoga was impressed, not just how Camus presented himself, but also what he could create with those dainty, long hands he’d like to touch. Patchouli, Mandarin, no not Citrus, or Dry Woods, when he can hold them, he can find out naturally. 

Gingerbread Milo was flashed for a photo shoot, he had a perfect pose. That photo will gain some reactions and recognition to the sender. Milo’s reply was him texting  _ Nice, what do you think of me now? Would Kanon love this?”  _ Below it was a picture of Milo wearing something that left little to the imagination, that elf hat tilting on his head didn’t help at all. At the end, he blocked Milo and put his phone flat down. No need to pollute the poor boy’s eyes from... Hoe Milo.

He moved on to another gingerbread, no phone needed, he got a clear idea who. With that fact Camus didn't have him in any images anyway. Milo was a jealous boy after all. He saw Saga arriving at his table across, waiting for someone as he didn’t order anything. Saga removed his black coat and revealed his dark purple shirt with grey waistcoat. In a briefcase he pulled out a small wrapped box with a ribbon and placed it on the table. 

“Do you know the man who came in, like a manager or…”

He continued on colouring Kanon’s shirt blue, “He’s a businessman. Saga is quite sensible and respected in his side of the community. This one however, is not. Brutish, get involved in a few fights and infamous play- speak of the devil.” Camus spotted the real life version and moved on with his pants with more of a frown, barely noticeable to most. 

Hyoga became an audience to a spectacle. This casual man played with the empty chair with his fingers to Saga’s shock. No doubt they were twins, who would replicate an 80s disaster hair and that shade of blue that suited their Greek features well. His twin opened the gift and put his hand against his mouth to stop laughing before putting a diamond ring on his fingers. 

Saga sipped the water bottle he got from the case. This is when the casual twin stepped back, more so as he saw danger in that red fist. The casual twin ran away, almost tripping over the spaced out stairs. Camus raised his eyebrows when Saga just jumped the hole near the stairs, avoiding 50% of it. Now they both knew the casual twin’s name by an angry shout before the café’s door was almost broken off. Kanon the Catfisher. 

Camus gave Gingerbread Kanon to Hyoga to eat which Hyoga did to remove what he saw from his mind. The pens themselves were sugary but with the gingerbread even more so. 

“Camus, I was thinking of something. Is it okay if we ask some personal questions, one each?” 

Camus just raised his eyebrow, “That is what dating is, to find out what another person is like.” He grasped for Hyoga’s hand for a moment, “That is how vetting works, boy. I trust you won’t ask any stupid questions.”

“How did Uncle Kardia die? Mom said it was a broken heart.”

“And your mom is right and though I respect her, I’ll tell you what I know. I’m surprised your friend didn’t tell you about it since he was at the funeral. Anyway, after Uncle Dégel had passed away, we discovered something about him.”

That last sentence had his hand made into a fist, bones could be rearranged by the sheer strength of it.

“Uncle Dégel was a whore, he had sex with multiple partners that he didn’t know he got an UTI and gave it to Uncle Kardia who was already grieving, it was too late to get the treatment.”

Without thinking, Camus loosened his fist as he felt Hyoga’s soft one over his, he smirked a little as he remembered something.

“I know you don’t like Uncle Dégel that much, Hyoga. Crystal burst into laughter when he heard him dragging you outside without glasses thinking you are one of his poodles, it wasn’t funny. Hence I ripped a book and wouldn’t stop unless he apologised to you; no child should go through that. Anyway, one time Uncle Kardia took me and Crystal shedding on a snowy hill for hours. Poor Crystal went overboard a couple of times but for the final time he insisted that we sit on his lap whilst he sled. Good, it was good.”

Hyoga got his phone out using his free hand and found the picture in which Camus had a small smile. “Did Crystal make this?”

The picture showed an icing gingerbread house shaped like a palace, gumdrops were on the rooftop and path, the windows and doors were iced.

“Yes, in fact he is going to make another one on Christmas as a treat after my ballet recital.”

“In nutcracker? Good, if I get to see you dance some time then I’d love to talk more about it. By the way, I want to ask you something.”

Hyoga put his phone away and nodded his head.

“‘I'm wondering why you asked me to date. Don’t your priorities of school and friends have any importance?”

“I can ask you the same, why did you, as a model, agree to date me? I’m not here to fool around.”

“Answer my question first, Hyoga.” He didn’t shout or raise his voice. That iciness had returned strong, that true authority radiated beyond his pretty face, made Hyoga’s mouth run drier.

“I liked to hang around you as you intrigued me a lot. A person who appreciates privacy like me since I don’t like to reveal too much to too many people. When I hear you, see you on tv and occasions, it makes me feel light like a glacier on water. You can say I have a crush on you....”

Hyoga could not look up when he revealed his secret to his date, it was too painful to feel his face that slowly numbed to his blush. What he heard next though, he had to glance at Camus in disbelief but not in shock. 

“You’re too dependent on feelings, they won’t help you at all, trust me. In the end, you get heartbreak, too afraid to like anyone, pushing yourself to isolation...to become an empty shell. An emotional kid without a vision for this ‘relationship’, that’s what you are. If you’d like to learn from me, use your head. This is what will happen. I will have four dates with you. After the fourth one, I’ll decide whether I want to see you again or not. I decided to date you because you have a charm that intrigued me, rarely do people interest me. Simply- excuse me.” 

Camus got up and stood near the stairs to answer a call, to eat that cinnamon roll felt like an ill mistake. Unforgiving, whipping, the one who was scarred knew he was right, blinded by that rose tinted vision. Not yet reduced to his tears thanks to Seiya sending him a pic of Ikki covered in horrendous makeup and a Santa hat who was napping on the couch with Shun, who’d been spared from Seiya’s hands. 

Soft hands touched his shoulders and instead of curiosity and admiration, his date had a neutral look mirroring his. 

“I like to have someone serious and committed. I know how much you like me and won’t hurt me in that way, but I need your proof of your commitment. How about a second date next week where we could go ice skating? My boss called in on an urgent matter so this date is unfortunately, cut short.”

Hyoga blinked once, twice, thrice.  _ A second date?  _ Now he saw the stars had favoured him somehow, but he’s unsure. He did like him but he had a lot to think about, in this moment of time, he would enjoy his company as much as he could.

“Of course, you got my number, you can text me the appropriate time, and before I forget,” Hyoga got two tickets and handed them to Camus, “If you have free time, you or whoever you bring along, could watch me dance.” 

The tickets were taken and placed in his winter coat with care. Slowly, Camus leaned to kiss Hyoga on the cheek, warm from the latte he drank. He understood what it was. He kissed Camus’ right and left cheeks, his nose embraced the smell of Gardenias. Though marked as a farewell, joy returned in a rush that made his face heavy. To be kissed by his crush who happened to be a model, and to see him again, that would enough heat to last the season.  Camus did not leave without whispering his wisdom, “Be genuine, that would take you to most places in life. It is not the end of the world if things do not work out.”

**Author's Note:**

> My apologies for the lateness. Merry Christmas Yami and of course Happy New Year, I pray that next year would be tolerable than the fucking mess called 2020. This prompt had been the interesting one as I rarely make romantic stuff and enjoyed the process of writing something unfamiliar and new. Hyoga/Camus is cute naturally, though the romantic may be less because of Camus (and lack of romantic experience but I'm sure Camus would take this blame hahahaha). 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this fanfic and tell me what you think.


End file.
